


A Whole New World

by atouchofprincecharming



Category: Harrison Ford - Fandom, Indiana Jones, adventure-fandom, indy-fandom
Genre: 1940s, Adventure, African, Archaeologist, College, Cultures, Different Worlds, F/M, Gen, Henry Jones Jr., Indiana Jones - Freeform, Indy, Interracial Relationship, Multi, Original Character(s), Race, Racial Tension, Rolls Royce, differences, female archaeologist, interracial, moving picture, nationalities, picture show, sallah, same difference
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-09-28 00:38:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10059572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atouchofprincecharming/pseuds/atouchofprincecharming
Summary: On a night off, Indy takes in a show only to find himself bored and ready for a nap. Instead, he is visited by a fellow archaeologist from Africa that doesn't approve of him on every level... Circa 1940s





	1. Proper Introduction

His ticket had grown soggy in the palm of his hand while he did his best to focus on the film in front of him. He never had been one for a dinner and a show, but he had had his dinner and now he was watching a show... a boring show.

He sighed, letting his thoughts drift to what he itched to be doing. Digging for something... uncovering something... putting something back where it belonged.

As he sunk deeper into his seat, the film before him faded away as he found a comfortable spot to focus on as the music playing eased him into some recent memories...

Last month he had embarked on a routine adventure, this time visiting Laas Gaal, Somalia. There he had hoped to gather some rock paintings that dated back to 9,000 BC. He had been successful, but he had met a roadblock by the name of Ashanti Jabari.

She forbid him to take what did not belong to him regardless of his idea of preserving them in a well-respected museum.

She found his know-how to lean a little too far on arrogance and his skintone to be be frankly wary of.

He promised her that he came in peace, he assured her that he was a do-gooder, and he offered as much knowledge about her culture as he could to try to approve of him.

Nothing had worked. She found him to be a liar, a fake... a man who could not be trusted. He remembered the fire in her eyes the night before he had left. What she hadn't realized was that he indeed had permission granted by the college to return with some findings. Boiling mad, she watched him wrap the paintings carefully, Sallah helping him load them on to the back of a truck.

He found himself smirking at her uncalled for hatred towards him just as he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Excuse me, Sir." The woman spoke kindly; her husband towering behind her. "Could you move down a seat? We came with another party...they should be arriving soon."

He almost offered the woman his box of popcorn in addition to filling her request. Anything at this point would be more interesting than the film.

"Certainly." He said around a warm grin as he stood from his seat and quickly sat down in the next seat.

"I hope Esther and Milton will be able to find us."

"I hope they won't." Her husband grumbled. "Out of all the nights... and out of all the shows..."

"Shh..." She shushed him.

Indy grinned at their banter, but made it unknown to both of them.

Fixing himself in his chair, he glanced over to the empty seat on the other side of him. Removing his hat from his head, he placed it on the seat while deepening his lean into the chair. Closing his eyes suddenly felt so easy and inviting.

The couple next to him had continued their bickering and soon he had heard a faint sound of their second party showing up; exchanging greetings amongst others in the theatre shushing them.

He had developed an easy smirk on his lips just as he felt another hand on his shoulder. This time, the hand pushed down on him with enough pressure to jolt him out of what he had hoped would be a nap that would have lasted him until the very end of the picture.

"What--" He stilled his lips, then knitted his eyebrows. "Ashanti?" He questioned in a loud whisper.

"Confused?"

"No..." He swallowed before looking around uneasily, "Surprised...worried..."

"For me?"

"For myself." He admitted.

"What have you to be worried about?" She motioned towards the people around them, "We are surrounded by your people."

"I don't know anyone in here..." He tossed a glance to the couple next to him, "... I could know these two..." He smirked.

He found her stare growing even more intense.

"You're obviously here to see me... would you rather we go somewhere comfortable?"

"This isn't a proposition."

He tucked his chin in and laughed softly while bringing his hand up to scratch the back of his head. "Don't get the wrong idea sweetheart, I'm just offering some protection."

"I doubt that. You stolen from my people--"

He held his hand up to silence her, "I did--"

"Yes--"

"No--" His voice grew a notch higher. "I'm not a goddamned grave robber--"

"Then what are you?"

"I'm an archaeologist.... just like you."

She laughed cruelly.

He didn't know how to read her reaction so he sat there with knitted eyebrows all over again. Soon though, he started to take notice to a few on-lookers that had started to give a look of disapproval.

Swallowing, he reached for her elbow to get her attention.

"Do not touch me." She took her arm away from his sharply.

"Look... you've already sat on my hat..." He pursed his lips, "...and I think it'd be best if we got the hell out of here... now." He narrowed his eyes.

She had no time in questioning him or telling him to keep his opinions about what they should do to himself because in a whirlwind she had found herself in the passenger seat of his all-black Rolls Royce.

"I don't appreciate--"

"You will." He assured her.

Starting the engine, he quickly peeled out of the parking lot and onto the main road.

"I did not come here for a game of cat and mouse."

"Who's chasing ya?" He wondered out loud. "I'm taking you to see a friend of mine."

"I do not want to speak to Sallah."

"Sallah's in Cairo." He rolled his eyes, "This is the only way to get you off my back."

"You took what was not intended to be taken."

"Look..." He put his finger up as if they would help him better explain, "I did what was asked of me. I can't just say no to these people."

"You speak as if they own you."

"They practically do. If I go against them I lose all of my funding."

She sat quietly, trying to understand what he was trying to tell her.

"Look sweetheart, I'm not just some whip-cracking archaeologist... I'm a college professor." He stopped at a red light, then turned his neck to look at her as he put out his hand for her to shake, "Henry Jones."


	2. Preservation

She felt like a prowler as she watched him motion for her to climb through a window. With her feet planted firmly on the ground, she crossed her arms over her chest.

"What's the matter?" asked.

"Where have you taken me?" She could not believe how dark the night could become.

"I've taken you to where I work. I've taken you to the University."

She did not trust him an ounce more after hearing those words come from his mouth. He sighed, climbing into the window. He landed on his feet with perfect form. "Come on, will ya?!" His voice hitched a bit.

"Shouldn't you have a key?"

"Of course I've got a key, but I didn't expect you to show up while I was enjoying the show."

"You didn't look as if you were enjoying it."

"That's besides the point." He narrowed his eyes. That much she could make from the light shimmer of an almost full moon. "Look, I'm not sure what you're so worried about. If memory serves me right, you're the one that came to me which means you were following me for sometime."

"That's absurd."

"Is it?" He raised his eyebrows. "There's no other way that you could have found me except to have followed me from my home. There's only two places I can be found in this city... my residence or my classroom. Now get in here and let me shut this cold out."

She finally gave in, but asked for him to move away from the window so she could climb on her own. She had nearly been all the way inside when she slipped. He caught her, rolling his eyes after she had both feet planted on the ground. He slammed the window shut as she backed away from him.

Wrapping an arm around her waist, he pulled her forward as she began protesting.

"Easy..." He took his arm from around her and pointed to the roaring furnace behind her. "Furnace..." He shook his head with a mild smirk on his lips. "You're jumpy... did you take anything?"

"Excuse me?"

"Would you like to take something?" He pointed to a few bottles on his desk. They could now see around his office, as cramped as it was, due to the the small lamp he had turned on.

"No thank you."

He shrugged as he reached for a bottle. "I've got a splitting headache..." He laughed as he popped the lid open, "...on a night off..." He was so amused by that. Swallowing two pills without water, she grimaced at that.

"They're gel capsules... they're meant to go down easy."

"Sort of like yourself, no?"

His ears wiggled a bit. "...I don't follow..."

"You wouldn't." She sold him short because she thought he had sold her short the very minute he laid eyes on her. "Am I to believe that this is where you grade your papers?"

"Not enough light?" He cracked. "It's not the end of the marking period." He watched her as she took in pieces of history he had scattered, stacked, and hanging around. "I didn't steal any of these."

"I'm sure." Her tone flat.

He sighed while finding his desk chair. Sitting in it, he undid his tie and opened his jacket. Resting his head in his hand, he watched her wrap her coat tighter around herself.

"I could turn the heat up..." He never received an answer from even after a few minutes more. "You could touch them if you'd like."

"I wouldn't dare." Her tone rushed; laced with shame she thought he should feel.

Instead of rounding his shelves and following behind her. He waited for something to catch her attention. He smirked when he thought the reflection from a diamond caught her eye. As he came closer to the shelf, he realized that she had her focus on a rugged stone instead.

"...ever hear the story of the--"

"Sankara Stones." She finished for him. "Everyone's heard the story."

He nodded, moving something out of his way to get a better look at her. She wasn't facing him, but he continued to speak to her anyway, "I took back a stone to its rightful owner."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better about what you have taken from my people?" She turned around sharply and stared at him with such fire in her eyes.

"Preserve. What I find--"

"What you steal."

He inhaled sharply. "What I find -- what I take back... I do it only to place it in a museum. If these relics... these pieces of culture are not uncovered and brought somewhere safe, to be preserved, they'll die along with the rest of an already dying culture."

"What do you know about my culture?!"

"I know that your culture is just like that of my culture... of many cultures... nothing can last forever on it's own. Things must be protected...passed down... they must be preserved."

"If God intended--"

"This has nothing to do with God." His voice stern. "...and you know damn well it doesn't." He paused. 

"Those rock paintings you took had been said to have been around since 9,000 B.C!" She exclaimed. "We haven't the level of protection that America has, but we have done just fine protecting those pieces."

He tensed. "I hardly think your people had prayed to these pieces so if I were you, I'd let it go..." He sighed as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"You haven't a heart."

"No?" He almost began calling off everything he had done in his life when he abruptly stopped himself. "Whatever you say, sweetheart."

"I would prefer you speak to me with respect!" She lashed at him with her tongue.

He grew serious as her words sunk in. His mouth grew smaller as he thought and thought, "Fine." He said.

She turned from him and continued walking down the isle that he had created between two extremely tall shelving units. He took that time to find his chair again, this time removing his jacket and peeling off his tie completely. Reaching for a pen, he began writing himself a list he should have done earlier.

"What is in it for you?" She had made it around the corner and returned to the area where his desk sat. She shrugged as her eyes flicked to more and more relics surrounding them, "Besides the money... the publicity... how does all of this make you feel deep down inside?"

He stilled the pen and looked up at her. Soon he had put down the pen and crossed his arms over his chest, "I could ask you the same question."

"We aren't the same."

"No?"

"I uncover artifacts, but I do not remove them. I study them where they lay and I return with my notes."

"What good are notes?"

"It's satisfying enough to know that these things truly exist," He opened his mouth, only to close it again, "Removing them would strip them of their value."

He pointed to the area of the shelf where the stone sat. "A Thuggee high priest's son had captured two of the Sankara Stones. Had it not have been for me, they would have kept a village's heart, their soul..." He felt his throat tighten, "Their children!" He had slammed his palms flat against the top of his desk, startling her. "Sometimes their value has nothing to do with it. Sometimes, returning them to their rightful owners... or restoring life to a village is more important." He pointed a finger at her. "You haven't any idea the hell I've had to go through when it comes to the adventures I've gone on."

"How dare you?!"

"HOW DARE I WHAT?!" He shot out of his seat. "TELL YOU THE TRUTH?!" He moved out of the way of his chair, grabbing the back of it and slamming it forcefully into place. His head shot up just as he found her startled again. "I brought you here to introduce you to a friend of mine... maybe he'll have better luck in getting through to you!" He grabbed his jacket and his bowtie. Gripping it so tightly, he shoved it inside the pocket of his jacket. "Let's go."

"I won't have you take me anywhere else."

"No?" He shrugged. "Then wait here."

Marching over to his office door, he opened it roughly. The dim light in the hallway highlighted his name written on the door. He glanced her way once more and noticed her looking intently at him.

"Still think I don't belong here?" He ran his finger under his entire name. "I'll have a photograph taken for you before you leave." He tossed at her carelessly.


	3. Silent Protection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lack a beta. I do my best to correct mistakes, but truth is I'm a casual fic writer and I don't take fic writing all that seriously. Sorry if that offends anyone, but I just do what I know how to do.

"Not tonight."

Marcus loosened his tie, holding a briefcase that had not seemed as heavy as it had before the meeting.

"Listen Marcus, you've got to help me out."

"Not tonight." He repeated himself. "I'm much too tired..." He looked aimlessly past his younger friend's shoulder, "... much too depressed..." He focused back in and gave a sorrowful expression, "I'm sorry my friend."

"Have a drink. You'll be alright in no time." He began making promising that might not hold true.

"May I remind you that I subject myself to these meetings before I ever subject you to them because I know just how crummy they make a person feel afterwards..." He bit back a yawn. "Please Henry... whatever it is that you need help with, can't it wait until morning?"

He inhaled sharply before letting his breath out in a heavy sigh. "Sure, Marcus... it can wait." He grew uneasy at the thoughts going through his head.

"Good man." He patted him on the back. "First thing in the morning I shall arrive with coffee, donuts, and perhaps a good book. It will be Saturday you know and there is this chapter that I am quite enchanted by--"

"I'll have the coffee ready -- and the donuts..." He assured his friend with a simple smile. "You just worry about bringing the book, okay?"

Marcus smiled warmly, "Good man!" He said again. "Indeed, a very good man..."

He walked past his friend, rambling to himself and yawning in-between it all while his friend watched him with a small smile playing on his lips.

\----------

The moon had seemed brighter as he slammed the door to his Rolls Royce. In his driveway, he felt the leaves crunch under his feet. Hearing another door slam, he scolded himself for trying to reach her side of the car in time to open the door for her. He should have known better than to be such a gentleman with this particular kind of woman.

"Shall I grab your bags?"

"I haven't got any bags." She snapped at him. "This is not where I thought I would end up tonight."

"Downtown is much too far..." He told her while opening the trunk of his car to retrieve a few of his bags.

"I could have taken a cab."

"You could have." With his bags in hand, he slammed the trunk shut, "But there's only so far he would have gone downtown from up here... you'd probably freeze to death while walking the rest of the way. Temperature is dropping -- fast." He could see his breath in front of him.

"I would have been alright."

"Maybe." He shrugged as he walked past her, "But I wouldn't have been."

She wanted to question him, but he had already made it as far as his porch. Anything said at this point would have to be delivered as a yell and that is not something she thought would be right for the time of night.

She watched him open his front door, placing his bags inside, then looking out to her. "You coming or what?"

She had grown so bothered, she could spit. Instead, she walked the rest of the way to his front door and practically forced herself into the entrance of his home.

Shutting the door behind him, he locked it before removing his coat. Undoing a few buttons on his dress shirt, he toed off his shoes and stuffed his feet in a pair of nearby slippers.

She watched him the entire time. Her feet freezing and her hands nearly the same. Sniffling, she wished for a tissue or something to wipe her nose with.

"Don't tell me you've gone and gotten yourself sick." He muttered, "I guess following somebody does come with a consequence."

She ignored the snark in his tone the best she could as she moved more out of his way to get a better look at him as he got himself even more comfortable by undoing the buttons on his sleeves and rolling them up.

"It won't do you any good standing there." He pointed further into his home. "Fireplace is in there."

"I'm not cold."

He reached for her hands with one of his and smirked. "You could benefit from all of this if you'd just loosen up a bit." He immediately caught the expression on her face as well as the twitch of her mouth, reading to fire words at him laced with sheer insult. "Look -- to put it shortly, the last thing I want is for you to get sick. One sneeze from you and I might end up with the goddamned flu. So do me a favor... get in there and get as close to the fireplace without burning yourself."

"You leave your fireplace on when you aren't home?"

"It's called insurance -- and I only do when I've got a hunch that my outings are goin to be cut short." He held his hand out in the direction of his living room. "Go on... I'll be back in a few minutes." He pointed to the door. "Door's locked... you're safe."

She hesitated still. Unsure of her surroundings and still unsure of the man in front of her.

Finally, after seeing him disappear into another room, what looked like a kitchen, she slowly made her way in the direction he had told her to go. As she got closer, she saw the roar of the fire and felt it instantly at her feet. Keeping her coat closed snugly around her, she took in a messy desk filled with papers, books, uncapped pens, and a rustic globe that teetered on the edge of a corner.

In front of the desk, a round table with a single chair sat. That table had been squeaky clean. Across from it all sat a sofa with a large coffee table. That had been somewhat clean aside from a few books, two open and one closed, as well as a candle that hadn't been burned yet.

"We could light it." He offered as he came into his living room with a stack full of clothes. "I tend to do that when I have guests..." He sized her up. "I'd consider you a guest." She linked candles to religion and to romance. She shook her head firmly. "Whatever you think is best." He placed the clothing on top of part of the coffee table. "I'd have done more with the place had I expected anyone--"

"I did not ask to come here."

"You can't leave without seeing the other place I'm known for being in." He motioned towards his living room. "I'll show you the rest of the house if you're interested, but until I'm sure you aren't sick... perhaps you better stay right here for the night." He pointed to the stack of clothes. "I'd imagine you'd like to get a little more comfortable."

The first thing he took out of the stack had been a robe. He chuckled, "Sorry." He crumbled it up and threw it behind the sofa. "I didn't mean to bring that out here."

She tried to read his grin, but could not.

"I will sleep in the clothes I have on."

"Nah..." He shook his head. "You should change. You'd be more comfortable."

She felt so stiff he could almost feel a large wall between them. "Take it easy..." He watched her look past him and almost over the sofa, or so he imagined. "That's been in my possession for years... I thought I'd lost it. It's not as if somebody left it here last night."

"I'm not interested in your affairs."

"Affairs?" He asked aloud before one side of his mouth went up in a quirky look.

"That is your personal business and I want no part of it."

"What are you going on about?" He shook his head. "Listen, I'm gonna grab something to eat from the kitchen... not sure how that plays out in your mind, but I'll bring something out for you if you promise not to question if I've posioned it." She didn't find him amusing, but he sure did. "Sit tight."

About twenty minutes later she found herself sitting with a plate of frosted meatloaf sitting in her lap. Using a fork, she lifted it and watched as the top looked as if it had been melting the longer she looked at it.

"Bet they haven't got this back home." He had already eaten half of his. "Aren't you gonna at least try it?"

She put the fork down and placed the plate on top of the coffee table. "I rather starve."

"Such drama." He muttered, then caught the look on her face. "I apologize... everyone's got a different idea of what tastes good. How about a ham sandwich?"

"Does it have frosting on it?"

"No." He chuckled. "It's glazed, though." She gave him a nod. Taking her plate, he stood. "Are you going to change?"

"I said I would be alright in what I've got on."

"Suit yourself, but the bathroom's down the hall... I've stuck a nightlight in there. You can't miss it."

He had already changed into his night attire. A brownish robe that flowed down to his feet; its belt left untied, hanging from the side as he kept it open.

Once he disappeared into the kitchen, she found it to be quite stuffy. Taking off her coat, she laid it neatly next to her while turning her head to read the bindings on the books that decorated one of his built-in book shelves.

He returned quicker than she had expected him to, and caught her running her fingers over some of the bindings.

"Are you a reader?"

"Not quite." She continued trailing her fingers across them.

He took a sip of some wine he had decided to pour himself. He would have offered, but she would have probably turned it into him wanting to intoxicate her for his own pleasure. "Why such an interest, then?" He asked as he settled into the cushions.

"Their structure... the way they're built is interesting."

He shrugged. "I suppose... sometimes that's not enough to appreciate what's written inside." He took another sip of his wine. "Some people shouldn't be allowed to publish anything... then again, what do I know?"

"You're a school teacher."

"College professor." He corrected her. "My expertise is more about field work rather than what's written in a book. Sure, the information is there and so is the philosophy... but it doesn't do much good when you're being chased by the Nazis." He huffed around his wine glass, "... goddamned Nazis..."

She looked at him at the mention of the Germans, but kept quiet.

"Don't even let me get into it. You'd never believe me anyway."

She turned back to the books and continued to run her fingers along them.

He set his wineglass down on top of his coffee table, resting his elbows on his knees and focusing more on her. "I know we haven't gotten off on the right foot and I should sleep with one eye open, but if you'd like to borrow some--"

"NO." She took her hand back quickly.

"Borrowing something doesn't equal stealing something."

"I know the difference." She came back to the sofa to sit down. "If you aren't passionate about reading, why do you surround yourself with so much literature?"

"Decoration." He quipped.

They sat there in somewhat comfortable silence, aside from the snap, crackle, and pop of the fire. Reaching for his wine glass, he took another sip while raising his eyebrows at her.

"No thank you." She said to him. He shrugged. "What time will your friend arrive?"

"IF I know Marcus, and I do, he'll be here bright and early..." He leaned back and rested against the back of his sofa. "With bells on. He's rather chipper first thing in the morning... it makes me sick -- literally."

She smiled the smallest of smiles, in good humor from his comment. He caught it, offering a small one of his own before they looked away from each other easily. Looking straight ahead, he began slowly, "I can't imagine why I should tell you this, but that robe back there belonged to my mother." He wouldn't turn to look at her, but he knew she had turned to look at him. "Along with a few pieces of jewelry, I haven't got much else that belonged to her."

"You do not need to explain."

"No... you're right." He cleared his throat, then swallowed. "...but I wouldn't want to leave you with that sort of impression." He turned to look at her, "I'd rather you respect me."

"Did she recently pass?"

"No." He turned from her then, standing up with his wine glass nearly empty and at his side. "We better get some sleep." He set his glass down, "I rather you take the bed. It's tucked away behind here... it's more secure."

"The neighborhood looked safe from what I could take in on the way here."

He thought back to the onlookers from the movie theater, but kept it to himself. "I haven't got the strength to bicker much more. I'm putting you up for the night, you aren't allowed to tell me where you'll sleep."

She shut her mouth, knowing he was right. She was his guest, whether she liked it or not.

"Lock the door if you'd feel safer." He told her, then turned back to look at her. "Not that my suggesting that to you means anything more. It's entirely up to you."

"You don't need to speak to me as if I take everything you say and think poorly of it."

He muttered words under his breath that she could not make out. "Goodnight."

"Where is it?"

"Up the stairs...you won't miss it." He said while he began turning down the couch to sleep on.

A few moments later, he climbed a few steps, listening for the soft click of his bedroom door. Soon, he found himself going over to his front door, opening it and taking a quick scan of his front lawn and driveway. Afterwards, he closed the door softly, and locked it.

Going around to the windows, he double checked that they were closed shut and locked.

Standing in the main entrance of his home, he listened to the quietness around him, inhaling.

There had been something biting at him in the pit of his stomach since earlier that night, but he kept pushing it away. He had hoped that the glass of wine he had consumed would calm him enough to lull him to sleep.

It hadn't.

Going over to the lamp, he lowered the light before grabbing a book from his bookshelf. Setting on the couch, he opened it and tried to rest his nerves by making sense out of whatever had been written inside.


	4. More Than the Fortune and More Than the Glory

Morning came and Marcus found himself rubbing his hands together as he thought about where he could have put the spare key he had been given many years before.

"I suppose I could have lost it..." He muttered to himself as a distant memory of him trying to outrun an angry bull in Spain floated past his mind. "...and it's so early..." He sighed, turning around and stepping quietly off of the front porch.

Going over to the side of the house, he did his best to grip a bit of the trellis and pull himself up. It hadn't been as easy as it had been years and years ago, but he was doing just fine until his foot slipped and he clutched the wood inside his hands in sheer panic.

A cold winter's morning surrounded him and he could see his breath in front of his face. "Marcus... you should have really thought this through, ol' boy..." He muttered to himself as he did his best to steady himself and raise himself higher and higher, hoping he would soon meet the window he planned on crawling through.

He found his courage surge as the gust of wind chilled his bones. Finally at the window, he peered inside, then forced himself back with wide eyes.

He opened his mouth to gasp, but soon found himself falling and falling until he finally hit the cold, hard ground beneath him.

"...unsuccessful, ol' boy..." He managed to get out through a strained breath.

 

\----------

"I said I was quite alright..." He wobbled as he took a step onto the front porch.

"You're a nut, Marcus!" He practically hollered as he helped his older friend. "What the hell were you thinking?!"

"Well, I forgot my key, you see--"

"So you forgot to knock?!" He pointed to the doorbell, "Could have rang the bell... Jesus Marcus..."

"I'm sorry Henry. I don't know what came over me."

"... you need to be more careful..." He inhaled sharply. "Don't do that again."

"Heaven's no!" He agreed, "What a way to start the day."

"You're telling me..." He held his head as a mild headache had started to form.

\----------

Once inside, Marcus readily took the pills that were offered to him and swallowed them down with a tall glass of water. After a couple of minutes, he grew even more impatient about the silence.

"Henry--"

"Marcus--"

They both chuckled. "You first."

"Yes... what do they tend to say? Age before beauty?" Marcus teased his younger friend. "I'll have you know I was quite the strapping young man in my day... perhaps even more handsome than you."

"There's nothing handsome about me, Marcus..." He grew modest, "Go on, I'm listening."

Now with a chance to speak, he was not sure what his delivery would sound like. Sitting there, with a loss for words, he inhaled sharply before setting his empty glass down.

"Aren't you going to ask me what I was doing climbing earlier before?"

"You said you lost the key I gave you." He shrugged.

"Oh, that's right." Marcus found himself falling deeper into silence, but then an idea came to him. "...ask me what I saw."

"A wall?"

"...not entirely...no..." He inhaled sharply again and with doing so, the younger man's eyes widened. "The girl...upstairs... who is she?"

With a sigh, he stood. Grabbing the empty glass of water, he made his way into the kitchen leaving Marcus there to sit...waiting. When he returned, he had a try full of donuts and coffee to go with it.

"I wasn't serious about those."

"Too bad..." He cleared his throat. "I had them delivered."

"That is quite unusual."

"It is..." He laughed as he put down the tray, then pulling up a chair. "... but I tip the paperboy pretty well so he keeps coming around, asking me if I need anymore favors." He poured a cup of coffee, "Now this I made myself."

Marcus took the steaming cup that was offered to him, but didn't take a sip. Instead, he held it for a moment before placing it down on the coffee table. "...Henry--"

"Look Marcus, it's not what you think, alright?" He took a sip of his own coffee. "She came to me--"

"Doesn't that alarm you?"

He found himself falling into a deep thought as the corner of his mouth went up in a smirk, "Sort of..." He chuckled, "I never thought she'd come all this way... but she did."

"So you know her?"

"Remember those rock paintings I brought back recently?" He let the wheels in his friend's head turn a bit, then took another sip of coffee.

"You took them from her."

He almost choked as he swallowed. "Excuse me?" He cleared his throat. "You're the one that sent me out after them."

"Well... well I..." He shrugged, then nodded, "Well, yes, I did, but..."

"There is no but, Marcus. You told me what you wanted and I went it got it for you."

"I'm not the one that makes the final decision--"

"You own the museum."

"Yes, Henry, but there is more to it..." He inhaled sharply, "What I say is not law. I give my opinion and they give theirs, meetings are held and that's when the subject of money comes forth and--"

"And then that's where I come in."

Marcus sighed with a mild frown, "Not always."

"But most of the time."

"I come to you because I've known you since the beginning of time."

"You've known my father since the beginning of time..." He muttered, more interested in his coffee than his friend at the moment.

"There's no need to be sore about it--"

"I'm not." He insisted, "Just don't bullshit me, Marcus."

"Do you want me to tell you that you're the best?" He lifted his eyebrows. "That there's no relic hunter greater than the Indiana Jones?" He shrugged. "I thought you didn't like it when anyone stroked your ego."

"I don't."

"Then what shall I do to put you in a better mood?"

"Tell her that I've got nothing to do with the jobs I do."

"That would be a lie..." Marcus studied him, "Unless... that is what you want me to do... to lie." He knitted his eyebrows, " ...which hardly makes sense considering you don't know her." He waited a moment, then asked, "What have you told her?"

"That I'm a college professor that depends on funding in order to live."

"You've already lied to her then."

He sunk further in his seat and shut his mouth by drinking more of his coffee.

Marcus erupted in a fit of laughter. "You've really stretched the truth... must be the years showing themselves." When the younger man placed his empty cup down and did not reach for a donut, Marcus grew serious again. "You can't expect me not to call you out on a lie, Henry... you're like--"

"Don't say it, Marcus."

"You're like a son to me... now what kind of father would I be if I allowed you to be dishonest?"

He rolled his eyes; reaching for a donut and shoving it towards him. "I'm not ready for one."

"Eat it." He instructed, grabbing one for himself. "Look... I'm not asking you to tell her my life story, but she deserves to know that I'm not just some... some grave robber." He shook his head slightly, "... I hate it when people feel that way about me." Marcus listened quietly. "I find things that need to be kept safe... preserved in a museum... like your own." He sighed around his donut, chewing as he thought. "I tried to make her understand that it would be safe, away from the village, but she... she demands it back."

"Well she can't have it back." Marcus grew tense. "The others won't have it."

"I know..." He sighed. "I know..." He continued eating his donut. "Anyway, that's why I wanted you to speak to her last night, but you weren't up for it." He chewed some more, "...now we've got bigger problems."

"How so?"

"Well you went up the side of the house and looked through the window like a peeping tom--"

Marcus grew worried. "I didn't do it on purpose!" 

"Of course you didn't, Marcus, take it easy..." He tried to calm him down. "Did she see you?"

"How would I know? The moment I saw her, I fell backwards and down I went..." He reached his hand up to rub at the back of his head.

"What was she doing?" Marcus widened his eyes, "...let's play it safe... if she mentions anything, we'll try to smooth it over. If she doesn't, we've got nothing to worry about."

Marcus wasn't too sure about speaking with her face to face, but at this point, he had no choice.

"Stay here... I'll go get her."

Marcus stuffed the donut in his mouth and tried to settle his shaky hands.

\----------

Inside his office, he sat at this desk and began grading papers he should have already gotten through weeks before. With his glasses resting on the bridge of his nose and behind his ears, his bowtie undone, and his sleeves rolled up, he sighed at a careless mistake from a usual student of his.

"When's this kid gonna get it...?" He muttered as he made a red 'x' next to a question.

Just then a knock fell upon his door.

"I'm busy."

"It's me... Marcus..."

He grumbled while forcing his shoulders back in a stretch, "It's open."

Marcus appeared after a more than needed door slam with arms full of food and wine.

"How romantic, Marcus..." He teased as he leaned back and watched as food started to fall out of the brown paper bag. When he noticed the name of the bake shop on the loaf of bread, he backed away from his desk, "Wait a minute Marcus... I'm in no condition to pull an all nighter."

"What gives you that impression?"

"You never go to that bakery unless you're in the middle of a roaring fire."

"Raging."

"What?"

"More like a raging fire..." He nearly fell into his seat as he ripped off his suit jacket.

"I'm in the middle of grading long-over-due papers."

"Those can wait. You know those students of yours have got their mind on other things."

"No wonder more than half of them are failing."

"The girls are infatuated with you, Henry. You should hear them in the hallways after your class... the young men are incredibly jealous of you. Much too far of a competition for them."

"If only they knew..." He laughed at the mention of the same old news. "Where was the infatuation when I was their age?"

"I wouldn't know..." He muttered as he grabbed some butter for his bread, "Adolescence was rather dull in my day."

"Well sure, dinosaurs roamed the earth back then..." He cracked.

"Butter your bread..." He held the knife and butter out in front of him.

"What if I don't want to?"

"I suggest you do it before I shove the butter somewhere else."

"Sassy, Marcus...real sassy..." He chuckled as he did what he was instructed to do. "Hope you're not gonna tell me in a month or so I owe you."

"When have I ever required payment?"

"Never, but you're a little unlike yourself at the moment... I can't read you like I'm always able to."

"If you were a woman, you might find me alluring."

"...I wouldn't hold my breath on that, Marcus." He took a bite, "So... what's got ya spooked?"

"Your adamant archaeologist friend Ms. Jabari is starting to create quite a stir..."

"I guess she didn't like having to walk downtown... I told her the bus would only take her so far..." He shrugged, "I told her she could stay with me the rest of her time here."

"It's a good thing she didn't take you up on your offer."

"why?"

"Be serious, Henry... what would having her around say to everyone else?" He slowed his chewing, but never opened his mouth. "There are just certain things that aren't to be done, especially in your position."

Suddenly nothing seemed to be sitting very well in the pit of his stomach. "That's not right, Marcus."

"No it isn't, but sometimes that is best is not right... sometimes what is best is so damn wrong."

An uncomfortable silence settled around them. With each passing second, he felt his shoulders growing tense as Marcus tried to look straight through him.

"I told you that I offered her a place to stay. I hadn't offered more than that."

"But she was in your room, overnight--"

"What was I going to do? Put her on the couch?"

"Heaven's no, but..." Marcus felt uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was going, but on the other hand, he felt as if he was being kept in the dark about things he felt he shouldn't be. "...if memory serves me right, every time you put a woman in your bed, you're occupying the other side."

"Leave it to you Marcus to make me out to be some sort of cad." He put down the end of his bread and pushed himself away from his desk to stand up. "I much rather you leave... now."

"There isn't any reason to get sore--"

"Then stop trying to make a mountain out of a molehill. Nothing happened. The reason why I thought it would be best to have her spend the night had been because I knew no cab driver would take her as far downtown as she wanted to go. It was cold -- single digits Marcus, what was I supposed to do? Put her in a cab and send her on her way knowing damn well she would have to walk most of the way? She'd have froze to death and then that'd be on me."

"You didn't ask her to come here."

"That doesn't matter!" He insisted. "What kind of trouble is she trying to start anyway?" He was beyond annoyed at this point. "What's the most that she can do anyway? 

Marcus shrugged. "...well not much, I suppose..."

"Then why the hell are you pestering me?" He pointed to his desk, "Especially when you know how much grading I have left to do."

"I only wanted to make you aware."

"Look... this has nothing to do with me anymore. I did my part... whatever the others and yourself think is best is business I shouldn't be a part of."

"Perhaps a vacation is due..."

"I don't need a vacation..." He felt the tension in his shoulders begin to make his muscles ache. He flopped in his chair and huffed, "I'm just getting sick and tired of repetitive bullshit."

"Are you not enjoying what you do anymore?"

"Not then it comes down to everyone having a say. No one knows what it's like out there, uncovering what I do. These people sit around on their asses with their hands out... waiting. What if one day I don't come back with what I've been sent to find? What if I don't come back at all?"

"Henry--"

"Answer me, Marcus. I'm only good when I'm great, but when I'm not... i'm gone."

"They aren't the mafia."

"They might as well be." He was serious. "...and if you're honest with yourself, you'll see what I'm saying... and you'll feel it, too... but you're just going along for the ride."

"I respect you as much as I do your father. That's foolishness, Henry... and you know it." He was offended, "I go along for the ride because I know you're passionate about going out there into foreign lands, mixing with the locals, uncovering truths... what more do you want?"

"I just want things to change a little... I want there to be more meaning behind what it is that we do because honestly, Marcus, whatever I've brought back in the last few years has disappeared. These findings... these fortunes--"

"Whatever happened to fortune and glory, Henry?"

He sat there, sulking in his many used taglines.

"That was what you obeyed by... that was all you ever needed..." He shrugged, "...except maybe for Marion." His eyes softened, "Have you spoken to her at all?"

"No."

"Perhaps a letter?"

"I've written... I've written so much until I just stopped..." He inhaled sharply, "It's been damn near 13 years, Marcus... people change."

"I can see that clearly..." He meant his troubled friend. "I would like it if you would eat your portion of dinner. I'm sorry for upsetting you."

"I'm not very hungry at the moment."

"May I stay?"

He sighed. "Sure." He grabbed his red pen and grabbed a few more papers. "Wake me if I fall asleep on these."

"That boring?"

"Very." He admitted. He began correcting, then stopped after a few markings. "...how much would it cost for a class trip?" He looked up at his friend, his eyes questioning behind his frames.

Marcus blinked wildly; "All of your students?"

"There is no literal way in hell, Marcus... I'd go nuts!" He snickered. "No... just the ones that have shown me from the beginning of the year that they've really got themselves wrapped around this whole archaeologist thing."

"Well..." Marcus wasn't too keen on the idea, but he played around with the idea a bit. "...it would depend on where you'll be taking them... where they'll stay, what they'll eat... but tuition went up earlier in the fall, so--"

"What about if I fund it?"

"You want to fund your own students?"

He shrugged. "Sure... why not? How expensive could it be?"

"Pretty expensive I imagine considering you will have to guard them with your life."

"Come on... they'll be alright."

"Yes, but Indy, their parents will need to meet with you and sign permission forms... and the female students, if there are any you plan on taking along, they mustn't be without a female teacher."

He shrugged and pouted, thinking about who he could bring along. "...What if I bring Ashanti along with me? It'll get her out of your hair."

"Impossible. She isn't a teacher."

"No, but she is an archaeologist..." He grinned. "Could work if it we sell the trip just right?"

"I like nothing about this trip."

"Loosen up, Marcus... these students are in their graduating year... they're practically adults and are the next in line to knock archaeologist in my age bracket off the map. It'll be a great experience for them and give them a taste of what it's really like. Besides... think of what we might uncover..."

His ears perked up at the possibility of new treasures.

"Let me run it by the others... see what they say, but Henry... no promises..."

"No promises." He agreed.


	5. Any Means Necessary

As each day went on, the air began to turn colder. Winter was approaching quicker than she had ever expected and her reason for being where she was had not improved.

Luckily for her she met a man that offered her a position in his food store. It wasn't enough to pay for a full rental, but the apartment above his shop had an extra bedroom, a decent bathroom, and a functional kitchen.

He spent most of his nights out, tapping his feet in some of the local jazz clubs much to her delight. It wasn't as if he were untrustworthy, but he was unfamiliar to her in a number of ways.

Earlier that week she received a telegram from some family back home. Their words had been hopeful, but she tucked the letter away in her luggage and tried to get it out of her head.

Those back home had depended on her. They had helped in whatever way they could, gathering what they had to trade for money, going into whatever savings they already had, and compiling it all. They were sending her on a journey to take back what was rightfully theirs and bring it back home where it belonged.

Belonged.

Now she was in a country where she did not belong. In a state where she did not belong. Doing a job that felt odd to her, and getting nowhere with the man that had robbed them in the first place.

Her heart was heavy and the growing worry in the bit of her stomach came and went as time ticked on.

She could see the division of the people. They were as much divided as where she came from. Some were generous and allowing, but sometimes only when the coast had been clear or they were expecting something in return.

There was an uptown and a downtown. A well put together corner and a crumbling one. A local jazz club with routine talent and a white's only jazz club with no routines and any non-white jazz singer had to come and leave through the back door.

Her heart had been in the right place when she set off on her journey. Her emotions were even what drove her so hard to make it all the way, but now things were staring her in the face... she wondered just how far she would be able to get before something would happen.

\----------

"H-h-hold on a minute, Marcus..." He tried to swallow the anger in his tone, "You're telling me that I'm being denied the opportunity to educate kids -- future archaeologists because I wasn't able to swiftly take what didn't goddamned belong to me and disappear in the middle of the night?"

"Henry, no one--"

"Bullshit, Marcus!" His finger now erect and pointed straight at his friend. "You didn't try hard enough."

"Like hell I didn't!" He insisted. "I pleaded with them. I tried to enchant them on all the new discoveries that you would bring straight home to them. I tried to show them everything in every angle I could think of."

"You should have let me talk to them."

"How would that have done you any favors? Right now they're in hot water because you didn't do what you normally do!" He inhaled sharply, never liking when he would raise his voice at him. "Give me the benefit of the doubt, Henry... I did the best I could. I would never not try to do the best I could when it comes to you. I thought you trusted me--"

"It's not about trust, Marcus. It's about getting the job done and now what the hell kind of trouble do they think they're going to have? I won't be able to get her out of here and there is no telling what she's got up her sleeve."

Marcus sighed while he watched him down the last bit of his scotch. "I don't understand what the hell has gotten into everybody, but if this is what's gonna happen from now on you wanna know what?!" He was on his feet, slamming the glass down and heaving. "Then I quit! That's it -- I'm finished!"

"You can't quit, Henry. Think of your career... your future. You aren't going to find another University that is going to allow you to do what you do when you're not teaching. They won't stand for it nor will they even have the funding that we do."

"You're just telling me that to keep me here."

"No. I'm not." His voice turned stern. "I suggest you stop overreacting and think of the big picture. So you made a mistake -- you hadn't gotten through in the middle of the night and you hadn't gone unseen. So what? It's your word against hers if she dares to come forward." He caught the upset in his friend's eyes. "Look...Henry... she's a smart girl. She'll figure out that she has no business here and when she does, she'll leave like nothing here had interested her in the first place."

Rolling his eyes, he turned his back on his friend and paced the floor. After a few moments he turned back around and rested his hands on his hips. "What did they tell you, Marcus?"

"How do you mean?"

His eyes grew darker and his tone lowered. "...the committee... what did they say?"

"Henry--"

"Marcus..." His tone forced and his throat tight.

He felt himself grow warm under the collar. Leaning back against the couch, he inhaled sharply. Reaching his hand up, he started to undo the button of his collar and loosen his tie.

"Are you gonna tell me or do I have to find out for myself?

Marcus swallowed the lump in his throat, "They said they would handle it."

"What...does...that...mean?"

"They'll take care of her." His hand fell from around his neck and he felt his stomach turn. "...any means necessary..."


	6. Trust Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi... sorry for a bit of a break. I've written two chapters (the one before this one) and this one. Hope they're interesting. If anyone is reading or curious about something please say so! Also, always open to suggestions. :)

"Go Home."

He pushed past his friend to get to his suitcase. Grabbing a few dress shirts on the way. He carelessly folded them and threw them in his bag. Next was his whip and a couple of slacks.

"Henry, slow down."

"Go home, Marcus." He pointed to the hallway outside of the bedroom. "Oh I forgot." He directed his finger over to his window.

Marcus sighed. "If I hadn't lost the key I wouldn't have tried to climb through your window."

"If you hadn't lost the key you wouldn't have tried to climb through my window and seen her naked."

Marcus stood there trying to run everything through his head. He had spoken in such a fast pace he was sure that his eyes were sort of rolling in his head.

"Figure it out on your way out, Marcus."

"Yes..." He continued to stand there, trying to figure it out. "What does me seeing her naked have to do with any of this?"

"Nothing, Marcus." His tone gruff and tired.

"Are you sore that you hadn't a chance to see her naked first?"

He stared his friend down before going over to his dresser and grabbing some of his unmentionables.

"I'm only asking an honest question."

"I'm not in the mood to play this game tonight, Marcus. You're starting to sound like my father."

"I am?"

"Yes. You are." He threw more items into his suitcase. "Now get going."

"But where ARE you going, Henry?" He looked at the clock on the wall. "It's after dark... it's nearly midnight."

"Don't worry about it, Marcus. I'm not going to turn to stone when the clock strikes twelve."

"Yes, er, no... I understand that, but where are you going?" He started to follow behind him now and it was driving him more and more into a panic. "I'm afraid I haven't the heart for this, Henry. Don't keep me in the dark."

"You're one to talk." He spat at his friend. "You're the only always meeting with those bastards. Now they're going to kill somebody."

"They didn't say anything about killing somebody."

He slammed the drawer he had open shut and stared darkly at him. "Have you forgotten about the ark? I nearly lost my life because of that goddamned thing... and so did Marion. And when I brought it back, it was taken from me--"

"It was stored away for your protection."

"BULLSHIT, MARCUS!" He hollered.

He took a deep breath, reaching for his handkerchief and wiping his brow. "I know, Henry... I know."

"Then don't stand here and bullshit me when it comes to somebody's life. You think me taking what belonged to her people is making me feel goddamn good about it?"

"This is what you do, Henry. You uncover things... you put them in museums. You preserve history."

"I know what I do and I know what I did." His voice so low and dark, "...but if you're asking me to stand by and let those money-hungry heartless bastards put a woman to death then I'm afraid we've got nothing more to say to each other."

"I don't think--"

"Well I do." His voice stern. "They'll do what they please, when they please, and how -- and when questions start to arise, if they ever do which I honestly think they won't considering who she is, they'll make believe like nothing ever happened. They've done it with artifacts, murals and paintings, scriptures and what not. They're goons, Marcus -- lowlife thugs that take from anyone and everyone they can."

"Henry--"

"I'm done with this bullshit, Marcus." He went back over to his luggage. "... get the hell out of my house. Now."

"Henry."

"Now, Marcus."

Taking a deep breath, he sighed a painful sigh. Putting his handkerchief back in his pocket, he made his way over to the open bedroom door and stuck one of his feet in the hall.

"...may I say something?"

He swallowed around the tightness in his throat. "What is it Marcus?"

"Watch how much care and effort you put into a complete stranger. Times are changing, yes, but there are still feelings and thoughts that can not be changed as quickly as we would like them to and sometimes nor do they ever."

He turned his neck slowly to look at his oldest friend.

"While you're watching her back... watch yours."

He looked down for a moment before giving his friend a quick nod.

"...goodnight."

He began down the hallway, praying he would see his friend again.

\----------

He had been true to his word. It had gotten well past midnight and he had not turned to stone, but he had ended up with a splitting headache instead.

So many unanswered questions running through his head made his head feel swollen. Finally, after applying pressure to his forehead and between his eyes, he forced himself out of bed and down the stairs to his kitchen.

Once he made it there and he flicked on the light, his hand flew to his eyes and he groaned at the intrusion.

"Christ..." He muttered as he felt around for the switch; flicking it off and finding his way over to his fridge in the dark. Opening the door, he fished around for his bottle of milk and used the softer light from inside the fridge to help him find his bottle of pills.

When he was finished and he shut the cabinet door, he thought it had sounded louder than usual. Ignoring it, he finished with the milk, wiped his mouth, and shut the fridge door at the same time as another sound.

He knit his eyebrows before he slunk back into his kitchen and listened quietly.

Another knock made his stomach clench and he wished he had brought something like his pistol or his whip along with him. He was a cautious guy, but in his own home he had never felt threatened before. This feeling was new and he blamed it more on his state of mind and the recent events that had happened to him for the past couple of weeks.

It was stress and the knocking he kept hearing could just have easily been the wind.

Rubbing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he tried to calm his nerves. "Get it together..." He told himself as he walked over to the front door. Resting his hand on top of the door knob, he looked through the nearby window and noticed a cab waiting at the end of the driveway.

That made him less alarmed and so he opened the door quickly. 

"You're home."

His forehead creased, taking in her shivering form.

"What are you doing here?" His head felt like someone had thrown a brick at it.

"I needed to speak with you."

"At this hour?" His eyes widened, looking past his shoulders. "He can't stay at the end of the driveway like that."

"Why not?"

"Because people around here never know when to mind their business."

"why is that?"

"Don't ask me, just get him out of here."

"I need him when I go back."

"Are you kidding?" He shook his head, taking her hand and pulling her inside. "Stay here." He went over to a vase in the corner and emptied it in his hand. After he caught all of the money, he ran out to give the cab his money.

When he made his way back inside, he shut his door but not before looking all around on the outside. He noticed his neighbor across the street peering through the window. Her shadow and the bright light from the living room was a dead give away.

"How am I supposed to get back?"

"You're not going back." He told her. He kept watch outside his window. "Sometimes I'd like to tell that woman a thing or two..." He sighed heavily before reaching for his head.

"I have to go back. I have work in the morning."

"So you're working now?" He was hardly interested.

"I have to pay my way while here." She shrugged. "I suppose I'll have to call another cab."

"No. You aren't gonna call another cab." He went over to his kitchen and turned the light on again without looking at it this time. Going over to the lamp on his desk, he turned it on before returnng to the kitchen to flick the switch.

"I hardly think that elderly woman across the street is going to do you any harm."

"You'd be surprised." He muttered.

"You seem tense."

"I'm alright." He sighed heavily as he flopped down in a chair. "So what is it that brings you here at this hour?"

"I was hoping to have made it here earlier, but I could not find a cab driver that was willing to come this far."

"The one you got to come out here must have not valued his life."

She took another step and easily sat down on his empty sofa. "Why do you say that?"

He opened his eyes to look at her. He studied her face to find out if she was actually serious with her question. "Have you some sort of defect?"

She grew instantly insulted.

"No..." He put his hand up to surrender. "Forget what I said. I'm not able to get into it with you tonight or ever."

"How dare you?"

"How dare I?" His eyebrows were raised and he found himself sitting straighter in his chair. "I should be asking you the same question. You know what time it is? I could have been sleeping!"

"What's sleep lost for such an adventurer like yourself?"

"Cute. Real cute." He rolled his eyes, hating that she always had something to say back to him. "This is my house."

"And this is your couch."

"And you've got an attitude with me because I asked you a simple question?" He sighed loudly. "I wasn't implying that you were stupid. I was only asking you if you honestly didn't have the slightest idea as to just what the hell is going on around you."

She wrapped her coat tighter around her and turned away from him. He tried to bore holes in the side of his face with his stare, but soon stopped to go over to the fireplace.

"That isn't necessary. I have my coat."

"Listen, after running out there to pay the driver in my slippers, I'm the one that's gone and caught a chill. Relax... I'm not trying to seduce you."

"What a relief." She muttered.

He caught her tone and wanted to tell her something that would fix her real good, but when he noticed something flicker across her features, he decided to leave her alone.

"Thngs aren't much different back home. There are... well, there are tensions back home. Everyone sticks to what they know... who they know..."

"Yeah?" He threw a log carelessly into his fireplace. "Then what makes it okay for a woman to be digging for treasures?"

"Typical of any man to ask such a question."

"Typical, maybe -- but I've met some not-so-typical women in my lifetime... it takes all kinds." He threw a look over his shoulder, "I'm just wondering because of the living situations you speak of."

"That's not all you're wondering for."

He ran the tip of the match against the concrete by his knee and lit it under the logs. Soon, the newspaper he placed underneath the logs caught and flames began to engulf the wood.

Standing up, he dusted off his hands before turning around to face her. "You want to get all of this out in the open?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

She wrapped her coat even tighter around herself and almost bolted from the couch. "Are you this skittish when you're cold?"

"How dare you speak to me like that!"

"I'll speak to you anyway I damn well please. This is my house, it's late, I'm cold, and I've got a splitting headache."

"Legends are true about you."

"Yeah lady, they're all true." He rubbed at his eyes before pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'm just some bastard that goes around robbing graves."

"Your sarcasm isn't flattering."

"The way you're acting nothing I do or say is flattering." He scoffed. "I'm not sure what makes you perfect, but please, shed some light on it for me so I know who I'm really dealing with."

"What do you mean?"

"What are you, some sort of princess? Is this all a hoax? What are you hiding?"

"Princess?" She couldn't believe what he was saying. "Hoax?"

"A lie." He used another form of the word. "Are you a rebel rouser? What's eating you? Why are you here?"

"Need I remind you that the first time I spent there it was you that made me!"

"You showed up in the middle of a dark theater demanding that I give you back what rightfully belonged to you--"

"It does rightfully belong to me!"

"I rushed you out of there and I brought you back to my office and I allowed you to see what I've uncovered. I told you what I do for a living. I told you what I do when I'm not out uncovering artifacts."

"I can for what is rightfully mine -- what belongs to my people. I did not come to take from you."

"That's not the point." He went over to her and trapped her between himself and one of his living room walls. "I get it... I took something that belonged to your people. I shouldn't have done it... I shouldn't have done a lot of things, but that night you came to me I was the one that did everything to make sure that you were safe--"

"I did not ask--"

"Quiet..." He cut her off. "Let me finish."

"I don't appreciate being backed into a corner like this."

"It's the only way I feel I can get through to you."

"I don't need to be gotten through to. You took what was mine and I demand it back and you won't give it to me!"

She felt her eyes well with tears and everything about her body language showed him that she had been frightened.

He stiffened and fell back, taking a few steps back and away from her. "All I'm saying is I'm not the one you should be worried about."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that while you came here looking for what belongs to you, others around here are going to do everything in their power to not only keep it from you, but make sure that you never are able to get your hands on it again."

She felt her heart pounding her chest. "You're going to kill me."

"No. I'm not." He put his hands up. "That's not the kind of business I'm in."

"The legends are true. EVery part. They spoke of men you killed, pieces you took, women you used..."

He stood there, growing upset at the mention of himself through the opinions of other people. Her words had hurt him and scolded himself for letting those same words hurt him every time he heard them through his travels.

"Listen... I'm no saint--"

"I didn't come here to find out otherwise. I suspected enough from the stories alone."

"Look!" He snapped then. "I never killed anyone outside of self defense. I never danced on anybody's grave, and I certainly never used any women."

"Liar."

"I'M NOT A LIAR!" He yelled, taking the few steps he took away from her back and crowding her personal space. "I grew up the best way I could without a mother and a father who was too busy seeking artifacts of his own. The only badge I ever got was one they gave to all the boy scouts -- and never anything more. I did the best I could in school, found time for a few years of my life to learn how to cook a few simple meals, and along the way I've done the best I can when it comes to know what's right or wrong."

"I did not ask for your life story."

"Too bad." He was on a roll that he wasn't going to let her break. "You think I'm going to let someone into my house and have them tear me down? I'm not proud of every waking moment or decision in my life, but then again, who is? Nobody's perfect." He glared at her. "I'm gonna make sure you know who the hell I am so the next time you hear the legends you can correct the hell out of those people."

"IT isn't my place."

"The hell it isn't." He opened his arms and motioned around his living room. "I took you in. I fed you. I gave you a warm place to sleep -- I gave you the most comfortable bed you could ever find here."

"You're way out of line."

"Good. That's what I had hoped. Wanna know why?" He wasn't looking for her to answer. "Because I've taken as much aspirin as I can for this splitting headache and you're trying to drive a hatchet through my skull. I had to be out of line -- it was the only way to get you to shut up and listen to me for once."

"I've heard enough."

"You haven't even heard the half of it." 

He let her push herself out of the small enclosure he had them in. She made her way over to the fireplace and stayed there with her eyes and ears alert.

"Why are you telling me all of this?"

"So you can trust me!" He was practically pleading with her. "I just told you I wasn't in the business of killing people -- but I'm not the one you should be worried about!"

He saw fear flash across her eyes.

"Don't panic..." He said as easily as he could. "...I'll make arrangements to get your out of here, but you're going to have to stop fighting me on this and your'e just going to... you're going to have to just forget about what you came here for."

"I won't."

"There isn't any other way!" He insisted. "They aren't going to let you have it."

"I made a promise to my people."

"Surely they'll understand... it's your life or... or what?" His forehead creased. "It's just not worth it. No artifact... no findings... no fortune, no glory is worth losing your life." His face softened. "...trust me, I know."

She thought about his request, but still she shook her head. "I am sorry to inform you, but I am not able to trust you."

He inhaled and let his breath out in a huff. "Why?"

"Because where I come from it is people like you that have taken from my people." Her eyes were dark now; firing dancing inside of them as she relived the horror she knew too well. "It is people like you, living here, in your own world, that are doing the same thing. You take what you want because you can... because you're allowed."

He stiffened at the force of her words. The truthness to them cutting through him and leaving him speechless.

"You can't be trusted by people like me..." Her voice shook slightly, "...and if you're honest with yourself, if you're honest with me...right here and right now, you know that deep down inside neither can we... neither can I."

She walked away from the fire and tried to make her way to the front door.

"Stop." He reached for her and kept her from walking out of his house. She didn't stay without a struggle and soon she found out just how forceful he could be.

When he had her pressed into a nearby wall, holding her there, he tried to get through to her once more.

"Get your hands off of me!"

"Listen..." He spoke as calmly as he could as he his body held her in place. "It brings me no pleasure to do this, but you have to understand that everything that is at stake now isn't about what's already happened. We can't change the way people think... we can't change what people do..." He felt her continue to struggle against him, "...but we've got a serious problem on our hands."

"There is nothing about this situation that brings you any harm. It is me they want to kill."

"And it's your blood that'll be on my hands." He caught her with his deep stare and she allowed her herself to look into it. "I've got every idea of what men that looked like me did to your people, but I'm not one of them. I came for the artifact... and nothing more. That's all I ever come for... each and every time." He took a deep breath as he felt her rest against him. "If you can't trust me... then believe in me. Believe that I'll get you back home safely... I promise."

When he felt that she was at ease, he removed himself from her only to have her push him with force he wasn't aware she had.

Running for his front door, she ripped it open and ran out into the darkness.

He tried to find her as he ran the best he could with his slippers and robe. He was as quiet as he could be while trying to make out the darkness around him, but it was like she had vanished.

Standing there in the middle of the road, he felt his heart pounding in his chest and his head throb.


End file.
